


On The House

by annabagnell



Series: On The House [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Breastfeeding, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Pole Dancing, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man on the stage dropped into a deep squat, rubbing his arse against the pole and stretching his arms above his head, fingers twisting in midair. The thong sat high on his hips, and his heels were impressive thin spikes which he balanced upon with a practised air. </p><p>But the most mind-boggling part of the whole routine was the </p><p>round</p><p>swollen</p><p>positively gargantuan </p><p>quivering</p><p>belly</p><p>attached to his front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suckitandsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckitandsee/gifts), [consultinghomosexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultinghomosexual/gifts).



> Another mpreg kink fic, this time with added stripper!lock! Warnings for mpreg, lactation and breastfeeding kink, pregnant fucking and other mpreg-related kinks. 
> 
> I know, these things are not realistic. My kinks do not care. 
> 
> A gift for my wonderful friends consulting-homosexual and suckitandsee. Check out their works, people! 
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism always appreciated! -Anna

_How can he do that?_

 

The man on the stage dropped into a deep squat, rubbing his arse against the pole and stretching his arms above his head, fingers twisting in midair. The thong sat high on his hips, and his heels were impressive thin spikes which he balanced upon with a practised air. 

 

But the most mind-boggling part of the whole routine was the 

 

round

 

swollen

 

positively _gargantuan_  

 

_quivering_

 

**_belly_ **

 

attached to his front. 

 

John's jaw dropped as the stripper rose from his crouch, that giant belly swinging in front of him as he hoisted himself up on the pole and twirled down until he stretched out languorously on the stage floor, belly and tits heaving as his body betrayed the effort it took to produce such an apparently effortless routine. 

 

To roars from the audience, the man hauled himself to his feet, pausing while on his knees to gain his balance before strutting off the stage, one hand on his back while the other rubbed at his tumbling stomach. John watched him walk off, nearly salivating, and decided to leave before the situation below became too dire. 

 

There was a crowd of rowdy Alphas at the main entrance, so John opted to head out the back exit. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and pushed the door open with his shoulder, ducking out of the noisy club and sighing as the pounding music was reduced to a pulsing throb behind him. He leaned back against the brick wall, closing his eyes and remembering how that Omega had looked, slender limbs supporting such a massive load, and oh god he couldn't just take his cock out here, could he? No…

 

"Best not to, no." A voice oiled out of the darkness, and John could nearly hear the smirk. Instinct kicked in and he snapped to attention, turning in search of the disembodied voice, and he caught sight of a pale face and a thin wrist holding out a cigarette. "Might I bother you for a light?" 

 

John let his breath whoosh out, the apparent danger fading. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it and sending a small flame up, illuminating the man. John gasped as he realised it was the stripper he'd just seen working the pole, belly even more massive up close. The man's mouth quirked as he lit the cigarette and looked at John. 

 

"You…shouldn't smoke when you're pregnant," John stammered, pulling the lighter back and clicking it shut. The man rolled his eyes and took a long drag on the cig, blowing out a thin stream of grey smoke and looking at John balefully. 

 

"Mm, yes, well, thank you for the tip. And the light. You can be on your way now." The man withdrew and turned away from John, laying a hand across his gravid belly and appearing to completely ignore his presence. John stood there dumbly, lighter halfway to his pocket, watching this heavily pregnant Omega carelessly smoke as the baby in his womb kicked and tumbled, distorting his skin. 

 

"I can charge to watch, you know." The man said, without looking at John, and the doctor coughed out a laugh and shifted on his feet. 

 

"How much?" he asked, mostly joking but a small part of him was entirely serious. The man turned his head to look at John through half-lidded eyes, sizing him up. 

 

"Hmm." He heaved himself forward off the wall, tapping the cigarette and taking one last drag before snubbing it out against the brick. "How much would you be willing to pay?" He rubbed his stomach absently, fingers pressing against some small limb as it poked out. 

 

"I…haven't really got much. I hardly had enough for the cover charge, I'm…sorry to bother, I'll just…be going." John flushed red and realised how much of an imbecile he sounded, and stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned on one heel to beat a hasty retreat and escape further embarrassment. 

 

"How about a free show? On the house, since I'm the size of one," the man murmured, calling after John and making the doctor stop in his tracks. 

 

"That's…not fair, you've got…got to make money somehow," John protested, turning halfway round to look at the Omega. 

 

"Nonsense, between the money for the surrogacy and the wages and tips from this I'm more than well off. I insist." The man stalked forward, heels clicking on the pavement and John could feel his resilience wavering as that belly led the Omega's way toward him. 

 

"I…I mean, if it's not an inconvenience, I'm…wait, surrogacy? It's not…" 

 

"Of course _they're_ not mine, don't be ridiculous. Do I seem the family kind?" 

 

John's mouth opened and closed several times, brain working to find an appropriate response but as the man laughed John did too. "No, I suppose not. Being a…"

 

"Stripper's fine," the man filled in. "I'm not offended by the term."

 

"Fine then, being a stripper doesn't seem like the most wholesome occupation for an expectant father." John gave a tentative smile, which the man returned. He extended a hand. "John Watson, by the way." 

 

"Sherlock Holmes." The man took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Now, about that show. Do you have a flat?"  

 

* * *

 

Sherlock opted to better clothe himself before hailing a cab back to John's small flat, at John's request - he wasn't sure he wouldn't suffer an aneurysm on the cab ride there if the man's stomach was bare. The cabbie gave them a queer look as Sherlock heaved himself into the rear seat, to which Sherlock merely sniffed. 

 

"So, er, when are you due?" John asked, once again lamenting his poor conversational skills as the small talk commenced awkwardly. "It's got to be soon, hasn't it?" 

 

Sherlock chuckled and patted his belly. "Not too terribly soon, no. They're triplets, and I'm not that far along. Five months." 

 

"Triplets," John murmured. "Wow. But that's IVF, isn't it, always getting multiples." 

 

Sherlock nodded, and let his head lean back against the seat. "And the parents plan to pay for full term, so I've got four months left to go. They pay well, so it makes up for the discomfort, and the tips at the club - you wouldn't believe. The bigger the belly, the bigger the tips." 

 

John's eyes went wide and he battled against his growing erection. "I…yeah, I can imagine. But…full term? 40 weeks with triplets? How is that even possible?" He clenched his legs and winced as he tried to concentrate on doctoral concern. 

 

Sherlock shrugged. "Depends on my body, I suppose. As long as everything goes well, it shouldn't be a problem. Besides, this isn't my first baby, or even my first set of multiples." 

 

"Really?" John turned in his seat to look over at the Omega. "So…you've made a career of this, then? Surrogacy?" 

 

"It pays the bills, and gives me something to do. I loathe nine-to-five jobs, and all I have to do for this is be fertile. Others might say it brings them satisfaction to provide families with the children they long for, but I couldn't care less." Sherlock's belly was tumbling with the triplets as he spoke, and John noticed he was idly rubbing it as he spoke, without even noticing. 

 

"So…how many have you had? As a surrogate, I mean?" John tried to picture Sherlock through the years, pregnant during uni or walking around London with babies in his belly that weren't his. 

 

"My first were twins, during my third year of university. Then a single, a few years after. A pair of twins following that and now these triplets. I've been a surrogate for nearly thirteen years." 

 

"And have you been, er, stripping that whole time?" 

 

Sherlock smirked. "I was a stripper before I got pregnant, but it didn't pay well. There was a market for pregnant Omegas, so I did a career change. And surprisingly, I enjoy being pregnant." 

 

"Well, that's good, then," John laughed, and Sherlock joined in, belly jumping as he chuckled. As the laughter died down, John found himself feeling a bit more relaxed than before, regardless of the fact that he was currently taking a heavily pregnant, unbonded Omega home for a strip-tease. 

 

"How much farther until your flat? I need to take a piss, someone's sitting on top of my bladder," Sherlock said, interrupting John's thoughts and rubbing at the lower part of his swollen belly. 

 

"Just a few minutes. And, er, what…is, ah, what's the plan?" 

 

"Mm, whatever you want. There's not much I haven't seen or done, and I don't have to be into work tomorrow. And I'm horny as fuck," he added quietly, and John's cock jumped in his pants. 

 

"And you're…you're sure you don't want paid?" John asked, looking down at his lap. 

 

"If you so much as try to pay me, I will leave." John decided that tone brooked no argument, and counted himself lucky that such a beautiful creature was coming back to his flat and demanding that he _wasn't_ to be paid. 

 

And really, he was beautiful, looking past the belly and at the man himself. Tall, thin (well, ignoring the obvious), high cheekbones and bright, pale blue eyes. And dark hair, which John was certain had to be dyed and styled just so to look so tousled. He wanted to run his hands through it, and wanted to trace those plush lips with his fingers. 

 

Sherlock got out of the cab hurriedly when they arrived in front of John's apartment complex, and John paid the driver and led the way into the building. He opted to take the elevator, if only for Sherlock's sake, even though he just lived on the third floor. He pointed Sherlock straight into the loo when he unlocked the door, and the stripper waddled in and quickly closed the door. 

 

John chuckled a little at the domesticity of it all, as though he was bringing his pregnant bondmate home after a night out. He paused at the end of that thought, wondering at what point he'd considered that Sherlock was unbonded and made the connection that here they were, Alpha and Omega, with something of a mutual attraction. He shook his head and shrugged off his coat, unsure of what to do while he waited for Sherlock's reentry. 

 

The door clicked open and John turned around, meaning to ask if Sherlock wanted anything, but his jaw dropped. The man was stark naked, belly shaking and he was rubbing it enthusiastically with both hands. The flush to his cheeks led John to believe that under that monstrous stomach was a very erect cock, but he couldn't quite see it. But as his gaze traveled down the man's body, John amended his initial observation to include a pair of red-heeled black stiletto pumps, different than those Sherlock had worn earlier. The man must've packed them in his duffle, as he was definitely wearing sensible shoes on the ride to the flat. 

 

"How do you want me, John?" Sherlock asked, voice husky and low. "Do you want to feel this big belly, or do you want to swing it with every thrust as you take me from behind?" He was cupping both of his breasts and massaging them gently now, and John started to salivate against his will. "Oh, you like these tits, do you? They're so full, John. Aren't they nice and heavy and round?" John nodded dumbly and Sherlock released them both suddenly, letting them roll down the sides of his rotund belly.

 

John let his self-control go and rushed forward, kissing Sherlock fiercely on the lips before latching onto his neck and sucking a bruise, drawing a soft moan from Sherlock's throat. He trailed his tongue down until he was mouthing over Sherlock's erect nipple, and he teased it with fast flicks of his tongue before pressing his lips around and creating a seal. The first few sucks were clumsy, the muscles of his mouth unused to the motions required to draw the liquid out, but he quickly caught on and soon found milk streaming easily into his mouth. 

 

He waited until he had a mouth full and leaking with milk before leaving off and taking Sherlock's mouth in a kiss, letting the Omega's milk flow into his own mouth and tinge the kiss with his sweet milk. Sherlock allowed it, reluctantly returning John's kiss but breaking it off with a strange look. "What…are you doing?" 

 

"You taste so good. Want you to taste it, too." John leaned forward and licked a drop of milk that had dripped out of Sherlock's mouth and settled in the crease of his lower lip. 

 

"No, not just…that. That too, but the…nursing. Why?" 

 

John pulled back and looked confused. "You pointed out how round and full your tits were, I figured you wanted me to suck on them. Is it…is that okay? Does it hurt?" 

 

"No, it's not painful. It's an unfamiliar sensation. I don't know whether I like it or not. And that," he added, referencing the kiss - "was unsanitary." 

 

John chuckled and let his hand drift to rest on Sherlock's belly. "Have you never breastfed before?" Sherlock shook his head. "Really? All those babies? What did you do about your breasts, then?" 

 

"They got painful, especially for the weeks around the births. But eventually they went down again, as my body reabsorbed the milk." 

 

"Hmm. Are you open to me sucking your tits?" John asked. 

 

"I…I suppose. Continue." Sherlock waved a hand, and John smiled and pressed a kiss to his collarbone before ducking down again and taking Sherlock's nipple in his mouth once more. He laughed as he heard Sherlock's "but no more kissing with my milk in your mouth" as he started to suck. 

 

John was intently suckling when he felt Sherlock's hand card through his hair and felt the man's chest rumbling beneath his mouth. He slowed his drinking to try and hear what the man was saying. 

 

_"Oh, J-john. Filthy."_

 

_"How hungrily you're drinking, so dirty."_

 

_"Could come just from this, never done this before, god."_

 

"Alright, then?" John murmured, letting Sherlock's empty breast fall from his lips and looking up at the Omega. Sherlock's eyes were half-closed, lids heavy and eyes hazy with arousal. He brushed a finger lightly over the nipple and Sherlock flinched, murmuring ' _sensitive._ ' John fondled the empty flesh lightly and switched to the opposing breast, drinking it slowly and savoring the taste of the milk and the soft, quiet moans of arousal he was drawing from Sherlock's mouth. 

 

John could tell when Sherlock was reaching his limit, thighs shaking and hands stuttering in his hair as the second breast emptied. He kissed the softened tissue and backed away, taking in Sherlock's flushed cheeks and neck and how dark his eyes were. 

 

"God, I need you inside me," Sherlock murmured, eyes trailing down John's still-clothed body and resting a moment as they passed over the obvious bulge in his crotch. 

 

"Thought you'd never ask," John replied, and started to unbutton his shirt. Sherlock reached out to stop him, stepping closer and closer until his navel brushed John's stomach and made him shudder. 

 

"Let me." Sherlock's long fingers pried at the buttons of John's shirt and he pulled back the fabric after each fasten was undone, spreading his fingers wide across John's chest and rubbing down his ribs and abdomen as his undershirt was revealed. John lifted his arms obediently and allowed Sherlock to pull his shirt over his head, and entirely too quickly those clever hands left his skin and ghosted down to undo his trousers. John pushed his hips forward, but Sherlock 'tutted' and withdrew his hands, chuckling as John groaned. 

 

Sherlock managed to loose John's trousers with minimal contact, leaving John breathing heavily and desperate for contact. Though he was nearly begging for it, he still jumped when Sherlock's breath, hot and moist, seeped through the fabric of his pants at the same moment his trousers were shucked down to his ankles. He keened when he felt the man's tongue pressing against the sweat-dampened cotton and had to keep himself from bucking his hips when Sherlock's mouth ran the length of it as his cock pulsed and filled out. 

 

"Ohhh, Sherlock," John groaned as the man tugged his pants down to meet his trousers once more, leaving him leaning back against the wall for support as he licked John's cock. He'd never gotten so hard so fast, and his eyes rolled back into his head as Sherlock wrapped a hand around the base and started to stroke slowly. 

 

Those thick lips stretched around the head of his prick, pale and full and wonderfully tight as they met his index finger, and then retreated, nimble tongue dipping into the slit of John's cock and then darting away just as quickly. It didn't take long before that flattened tongue had John shaking and scrabbling at the wall just to keep his hands out of Sherlock's hair.

 

And then slowly, Sherlock pulled off, a string of saliva hanging between his lips and John's cock, and John shivered as the fluid started to cool. "Fuck me, John," Sherlock rasped, licking his lips. 

 

John pulled his trousers and pants off his ankles, letting Sherlock heave himself to his feet. He was incredibly, mind-bogglingly steady in those heels, and John gestured openly toward the bedroom. He followed Sherlock, watching the man's hips swing back and forth in something of an exaggerated waddle, belly visible in the gap between his ribs and his arms. The heels made the waddle an interesting gait, the obviously trained sexy swagger was muddled slightly by the swing of his wider-than-usual hips. It wasn't a feminine walk, but it was a cock-stiffening one, and John had developed his own interesting stride by the time they reached his bed. 

 

"On your back," John murmured, and Sherlock stepped gingerly out of his stilettos and climbed heavily into bed, making sure he exaggerated the weight of his belly and how it felt as it hit his thighs. John gripped his cock tightly at the base as he saw the curve of Sherlock's spine, deeply bent into a U. Sherlock arched his back as much as he could with the solid belly impending his movement. A small elbow or knee rippled down his side, along the length of a wide stretch mark. John couldn't help but slide onto the bed and trace the path of that distortion with his tongue, drawing a guttural moan from Sherlock. He helped the man to lay sideways and then onto his back, running his hands over the mounded stomach presented so fully to him. 

 

As Sherlock lay before him, breathing heavily, John sat back on his heels to take in the sight before him. Sweat-dampened hair, flushed cheeks, whorehouse glitter sparkling on his chest and belly. The belly itself was a work of art, heaving and quaking with movement as the foetuses responded to their carrier's elevated blood pressure. John laid his hands on either side of Sherlock's protruding navel, and slowly lowered his head until his mouth was level with the smaller bump. He looked up at Sherlock, who was gazing down at him with eyes pooled black with lust. He nodded and gripped the sheets in his hands, waiting for the onslaught of sensation he was about to receive. 

 

And John licked the tip. Sherlock shuddered and moaned, and John licked it again, and then took the nub into his mouth and assaulted it with tongue and teeth and wet slick saliva. He fucked that navel until Sherlock was crying out and rocking his hips, until the triplets were making his skin heave as they tortured his sides with their excited kicks and flips. And finally, as Sherlock was on the cusp of orgasm, John reached down with one hand and gripped Sherlock's balls firmly, tugging them back down and keeping the man from coming. Sherlock groaned frustratedly and batted at John's arm from around the mound of his belly, but John just grinned and withdrew. 

 

John toyed around with the idea of opening Sherlock with his tongue, but figured the man was already on edge enough and didn't need more teasing. He slicked a finger with lube from the bottle in his bedside table, and loosened Sherlock quickly and efficiently, working from one finger up to three before he was satisfied that the Omega was prepared. He reached for a condom, knowing Sherlock couldn't possibly get any _more_ pregnant but not wanting to risk either his health or Sherlock's. Sherlock frowned when he rolled the latex on, but allowed John to slick himself without complaint.

 

John placed the blunt head of his already leaking cock at Sherlock's entrance, pushing just the head inside before hooking his hands beneath Sherlock's knees and sliding them onto his shoulders. Sherlock braced himself on elbows and John stuffed several pillows beneath the Omega's hips, until Sherlock nodded that he was comfortable enough and wriggled his hips to indicate that _he was fine already, and would John kindly_

 

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck." John had pushed in all in one go, his entire erect Alpha length sheathed fully in Sherlock's tight arse. The expletive fell from both men's lips simultaneously, and John had to bite his lip to keep from coming just then and there. Sherlock's prick gave a visible jerk as it bounced against his belly, which looked even impossibly larger from John's current position. He pressed his own stomach against the stretched, ripe skin, and shuddered as Sherlock's cock leaked against his abdomen. 

 

Sherlock laid his hands on his belly and rubbed, moaning in a way that was both pitiful and aroused simultaneously. "Oh, John, so heavy, so full. Fill me up more, god, fuck me until I can't walk." And John did, starting slowly with deep thrusts that left Sherlock arching his back and moaning for more, harder, faster. John was afraid to go too fast, to risk damage to Sherlock or the cargo he bore, but the Omega would have none of it, forcing the pace until John finally relented and gripped the man's thighs as he pounded into the slick, tight, plush arse he was buried in. 

 

Sherlock's eyes were squeezed shut and his belly rocked with each thrust of John's hips. Their bodies crashed together, flesh pressed against flesh as they got as close as two bodies could be, both approaching their rapture and John could feel kicks and pushes against his taut stomach every time he thrust inwards. The feel of those infants, contained in such a massive belly was nearly as good as the heat and stretch of Sherlock's arse around his cock, and John slipped one hand down to stroke Sherlock's rock-hard prick as he started to lose his pace to the pleasure. 

 

"G-god, John! John, dear christ you're so good, so hard oh my _lord_ don't stop, don't stop please-" and John lifted Sherlock by one hip until the man was crying out wordlessly, positively wailing when John's cock brushed over his prostate. And then Sherlock was coming, cock spurting all across the bottom of his belly and screaming as his orgasm ripped from his body. John followed shortly after, limbs shaking and nerves pulsing with the intense sparks of his own orgasm. His muscles tensed and released, and his arms went shaky as his cock gave one last weak pulse, and John opened his eyes and swiped sweat from his forehead as he grinned down at the Omega he was still sheathed inside. 

 

"Good?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to the skin just to the right of Sherlock's belly button and grasping the condom as he pulled out. 

 

"Dear holy mother of christ, John, I thought you'd be a good lay but I never in my wildest dreams expected that," Sherlock moaned, throwing a lazy arm over his eyes and chuckling weakly. 

 

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment, then," John replied, and knotted and tossed the condom into the trash can beside the mattress. "Here, let me help you turn over. Too much time on your back isn't-" 

 

"Good for the babies, I know, I know," Sherlock muttered, and allowed John to gently lay him onto his side. John took the liberty of snugging himself up behind the Omega, pulling a tissue from the bedside table and cleaning Sherlock's spend off his now-quieting belly. "I believe you wore them out." 

 

"Moving as much as they were? I'm not surprised," John laughed, and after he threw the tissue off the side of the bed he laid his arm over Sherlock's side, cupping his belly and rubbing gently. "You're staying the night, yeah?" 

 

"Don't know that I can move, not after _that_ orgasm," Sherlock said in mock complaint, and settled a little deeper into the mattress. John smiled and pressed several kisses to the Omega's shoulders. 

 

"Well, you're welcome to stay for breakfast in the morning. I'm nothing if not a kind and generous host." 

 

"Ah, thank you. At such a gravid stage of pregnancy, doing the 'walk of shame' early in the morning is most embarrassing." John's cock gave a twitch at the mention of Sherlock's state, but he tamped down his desire and shifted slightly on the mattress. 

 

"Well, ah, you're…more than welcome to, erm, come back sometime. If you want. I mean, um-" 

 

Sherlock chuckled and pulled John's arm firmer around his middle, drumming his own long fingers against the tight skin. "Might take you up on that offer," he said quietly. "You're most…unexpected." 

 

John's eyes had drifted closed, but he gave a contented hum to Sherlock's words. He smiled against the warm shoulder and tightened his hand on Sherlock's belly, falling quickly into a deep and dreamless sleep. 


End file.
